


Sometimes

by bbyfruit



Category: SKAM (TV)
Genre: Angst, Bipolar Disorder, Depression, Even's POV, Fluff, M/M, Mania
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-18
Updated: 2017-03-18
Packaged: 2018-10-06 23:50:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10347429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bbyfruit/pseuds/bbyfruit
Summary: Suffocating. Bright. Corrupting. Heavy. Emptiness. Warm. Real. Soaring. "Even." Everything. Motion. Explosive. Safe. "Fuck." Destined. Love. Infinite.





	

Sometimes, Even is low. Sometimes, he’s a shell of himself. Heartbeats echo through the empty hallways and his mind so quiet he can hear the blood swishing through his veins. Every breath hurts. Every breath reminds him that he’s alive, that he has lungs inflating in his ribs. He shuts his eyes and imagines inhaling dirt. Dark soil filling him instead of oxygen. Suffocating.

_“Look,” Isak says, spinning his laptop towards Even’s face. Even barely parts his lips to breathe. His mouth is dry. Isak continues to explain the scan on the screen, reds and yellows and blues tracing their way through the pictures of brains. “That’s what your brain looks like in its natural state, and then manic, and then depressed.” Isak flips through the slides. “So you can like, actually see the changes.” He leans up against the wall, almost close enough that his hip touches Even’s forehead where he lays on the bed. They stay silent. Even snakes his arm out of the blanket and hits the keyboard, switching between the brain scans. “Cool,” he finally says, voice harsh and rusty. Isak smiles. Bright._

Sometimes, Even hates himself. There’s a part of his mind that always whispers, “You should be better than this. Stronger than this. You should be able to control it.” He shoves his head in the pillows and tries to remember the scans. He knows there is science behind how he feels. He can try to use logic, try to rationalize what’s happening inside of him, but that part of him is never completely quiet. He hates himself for putting Isak through shit like this. For putting his parents through shit like this. He feels like every person he comes in contact with is worse off after he meets them. He’s King Midas, ruining everything he touches. Corrupting.

_“Need anything?” Eskild asks, cracking the door to Isak’s room, light radiating out from the hallway. Even feels like he’s drowning in the darkness around him, but that small sliver of light pounds into his brain and simply reminds him of everything he’s missing. “Even?” Eskild says, and the tone of his voice tells Even that he’s just about to come into the room. “No,” Even responds. He rolls over in the bed to face away from the door. Heavy._

Sometimes, Even wakes up. The blinds are shut and the room is empty. He can hear everything and nothing at the same time. The walls are so close to him, and he can’t stand to look at them, so he keeps his eyes closed and exists in darkness. He takes solace in the simplicity. Emptiness.

_“I’m not your fucking nurse, stop treating me like one!” Isak raises his voice, and Even feels sick. “Stop telling me that I don’t have to take care of you. Yeah, I fucking know that. I’m here because I want to be, like, your mom isn’t paying me. I want to be here. I’m making a choice to be here, Jesus Christ. You’re depressed and I’m gonna be here for the whole thing. The whole thing, you hear me?” Even stares at Isak. His cheeks are red and his brow is furrowed, his face drawn, shoulders square as he expects Even to respond, to tell him to get out again. I don’t want to ruin you, Even thinks to himself. He doesn’t say it. He’s so damn tired. “That’s chill,” he says, and closes his eyes again, so Isak doesn’t see him cry. Warm._

Sometimes, Even finds himself emerging from his mind. It happens so slowly, he barely notices, except he starts to know what time it is. He starts to realize that his hair is greasy. While he can’t quite get the energy to shower, the fact that he knows it is progress. He can feel that his ear itches. Sometimes, he scratches it. At some point, he finds himself sitting up. A few days later, he’s in the kitchen. He closes his eyes, not to escape, but to just allow himself to be grateful that he can feel the cold of the refrigerator. Real.

—————————

Sometimes, Even is high. Sometimes, he chases after his brain, thoughts passing him faster than he ever imagined possible, colors and ideas and words spilling over each other, tumbling, falling, rushing. He feels so close to everything, to himself, to Isak, to the world around him, so aware of everything that’s going on. His skin tingles wherever it touches the fabric of his clothes. Everything is so bright and so good and he swears, in that moment, that he’s discovered true happiness and he’s never going to come down. Soaring.

_“Please, Evi, just look at me,” Isak begs, but Even’s too far gone. They’re in a grocery store, movie theater, park - Even’s not sure, but he knows there’s a screaming child near them. “No, no, baby, listen, look, we can get the whole bunch, yeah?” It’s a grocery store. His arms are full of boxes of cereal, and when he turns around, so are Isak’s. Isak looks so small and helpless in the bright lights of the store aisle, and Even just wants to hold him, kiss him, so he does, letting the boxes tumble from his arms, grabbing Isak’s face with both hands. “Even.”_

Sometimes, Even forgets to sleep. There’s just so much to experience in the world, so much to live and love, and there’s something deep in his gut that’s screaming, telling him to do as much as he can now, because he doesn’t know what’s going to happen tomorrow. So he draws, he writes, cleans, sings, runs, plays games and takes the tram to random places in the city. He talks to anyone who will listen - Isak, his mom, the older woman in line behind him at the coffee shop, the cashier, Sana, the sky. He feels desperate for something that he doesn’t even know, and so he spends his days and his nights chasing that something. Everything.

_Every light is on when Even walks around in his house, and he’s been pacing so long that his heels feel raw, every step sending delicious shocks through his body, and so he walks faster. He wants to clean up, thinks his mom would appreciate it, she’s always saying that nobody helps her out. The kitchen cabinet is a good place to start. Or - actually, he’s already started, he realizes, so he laughs to himself and traces his way back to the sink, which he’s left running. The water creates such beautiful ripples that he loses himself in watching it. Motion._

Sometimes, Even does stupid things. He knows that, often knows they’re stupid as he’s doing them, but, God, they’re always so good at the same time. He feels like his mind is always at war with itself, except there’s a clear winner, one part that speaks at full volume and moves like a hurricane, overpowering the smaller part that tells him, “You’re manic.” He’s so fucking optimistic, and he thinks in terms of maybes - maybe this is it, this is who I really am. He can’t distinguish what is his illness and what’s him, and when he reaches a certain point, he forgets that his disorder is a part of him and not the other way around, and so he loses himself. Explosive.

—————————

Sometimes, Even is solid. He knows what time it is, sleeps a normal amount, eats breakfast with his boyfriend and dinner with his mother. He cleans up his mess. He still feels guilty, but he’s able to look at things clearly. He feels at home in his body. Safe.

_Even sits on the couch with his arm around Isak. “It’s so obvious!” he says to Jonas, laughing as he gestures with his right hand. Isak scrunches up his face and turns around to look at Even, curls perfectly framing his snapback. “Nei? He’s with Princess Leia?” The lilt in his voice sounds downright incredulous. “Yeah, but,” Magnus chimes in from the floor next to Madhi, “he could be, like, bisexual.” Jonas traces his fingers around the lip of his beer bottle and shakes his dark curls. “You can’t just tell me that Han Solo and Luke Skywalker were in a relationship and expect me to just believe it. Fuck.”_

Sometimes, Even takes his time. He likes to think when he showers, water running from burning hot to lukewarm. He takes his time when he draws, sometimes line art and doodles of things that happen during his day, and sometimes soft charcoal and graphite that blends together. He can spend hours watching Isak sleep or tracing the movements of the clouds outside his bedroom window from his spot on the windowsill. He likes to walk slow and dramatic. Music surrounds him as he plans out how the camera would pan around the classroom just right, and he takes the time to figure all the technical aspects. These days, it’s easy to move from one minute to the next, one hour to the next, enjoying the way that things just seem to fall into place. Even isn’t naive, but he sometimes wonders about fate and if some aspects of life are just simply meant to be. Destined.

_Romeo + Juliet plays quietly from Isak’s laptop on the bed. “You sure you’re okay with meeting them tomorrow?” Isak whispers from his place between Even’s legs. Even continues to stroke Isak’s hair, letting the pads of his fingers smooth out the golden strands. “Yeah, of course,” Even says. His lips brush against Isak’s ear and he grins a little when he feels the shiver travel down Isak’s spine. “They’re your parents. Plus, you’ve met mine, so it’s only fair.” Isak lets out a small sound of agreement and burrows further into his boyfriend’s arms. Even watches Leonardo DiCaprio come up from the pool, probably the second most perfect underwater kiss in history, and he takes a moment to place the emotion he’s feeling for the boy with him now. Love._

Sometimes, Even and Isak fight. Nothing is ever perfect. They argue about silly things, like not texting back fast enough and forgetting to do the laundry. Sometimes, it’s more serious. Isak doesn’t sleep for days and hides it from Even. Even refuses to tell Isak about his past and lies to him from behind red eyes. But that’s sometimes.

All the time, they love. They both show it in different ways. Even leaves drawings on Isak’s biology papers before he has a test, _you are hot_ and _at the same time_ … Isak lets Even wear his clothes and use the better pillow, because the smell that he leaves behind is so distinctly Even that Isak can’t help but smile. They laugh on the kitchen counters and wipe each other’s tears, laying still for hours on end. They kiss at parties, sloppy and desperate, heat and energy. They kiss in hallways, gentle and domestic, safe and careful. All the time, Isak loves Even and Even loves Isak. All the time, they stand in awe of each other, in awe of all the parallel universes that are falling into place at that exact moment. Infinite.

All the time, infinite.

**Author's Note:**

> pls leave comments about my writing! i tried some different styles to convey even's mental state so feel free to critique or anything. this is just something that's been in my head for a while and i really just wanted to share! x


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